


Sunstreaker the Happy Voyeur

by ultharkitty



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 11:05:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultharkitty/pseuds/ultharkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunstreaker spends a pleasant few breems watching Skyfire and Sideswipe have some fun.</p><p>Contains: explicit sticky smut, voyeurism, masturbation, a touch of dubcon (only because Skyfire doesn’t know they’re being watched. The smut itself is all perfectly consensual), PWP</p><p>Heavily inspired by <a href="http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/3587.html?thread=4193027%22">this kinkmeme request</a>, but I’m not confident it’s quite similar enough to count as a fill.</p><p>Massive thanks to naboru, aniay and ayngelcat for giving it a read through and being a test audience for me, seeing as I don't write Autobots very often and have never written either POV before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunstreaker the Happy Voyeur

Sunstreaker wasn’t sure how Sideswipe had done it, but he appeared to have talked Skyfire into removing a key segment of his plating. And in a storage locker of all places; very cosy. If only the security monitor had sound – slag, it probably did, but who knew what all those little buttons and dials were for? Sunstreaker certainly didn’t.

What he did know was that this would be worth watching, sound or no sound.

He checked his chronometer; four breems before Red Alert was due back. More than enough time to open his hatch, pull out his spike, and enjoy the show.

He settled back in the chair, and set about lubricating his equipment. His fingers tingled on contact with the nodes, and his engine revved; nice and hot already, and no wonder. There was something incredibly arousing about seeing Sideswipe with a larger mech. Especially when he knelt, and _especially_ especially when Sunstreaker had a very good view of his smirking mouth.

Sideswipe’s lips parted, taking in the tip of Skyfire’s spike. And only the tip. Sunstreaker’s valve thrummed, want coursing through him. Skyfire sure was proportionate.

And oh, that was good, watching Sideswipe ease Skyfire to full pressure, employing his hands when his mouth just wasn’t enough. Sunstreaker’s own grip tightened, but he resisted increasing his pace. Better to maintain slow strokes, enjoy the gradual accumulation of charge. He didn’t want to finish before his brother, that just wouldn’t be right.

He saw Skyfire tense, his hand on Sideswipe’s helm, then Sideswipe pulled back, licking a trace of lubricant from his lips. He stood, pressing himself against the airframe, his hands moving slowly over Skyfire’s chest, tracing the outline of his insignia.

Skyfire said something, probably something asinine and completely unattractive – making sure Sideswipe really _was_ into it or some other over-cautious scrap. But Sideswipe just laughed and bent forward over a stack of crates, waggling his aft.

Now that was more like it. Sideswipe’s cover retracted, and Skyfire didn’t quite seem able to help himself. He stroked Sideswipe’s aft, then his back, a slow and gentle caress that sent Sunstreaker’s charge soaring.

By the look of things, it was also doing something for Sideswipe. He angled his aft further up, and parted his thighs. Then Skyfire did something unexpected and lifted him, getting a crate under each of his feet, bringing him up to the right height.

Sunstreaker zoomed in on the monitor, wishing he knew how to make the camera itself zoom, as Skyfire lined up his spike with Sideswipe’s slick, inviting valve, and pushed slowly inside.

Frag, he was big. And _hot_ frag, Sideswipe was feeling it, if the tension in his frame and the way he clung to the crate were any indication.

Sunstreaker sighed, and began to stroke his spike to the rhythm of Skyfire’s thrusts.

* * *

“Oh frag oh frag that’s good!” Sideswipe cried. He clung to the metal box, every last byte of attention fixated on the spike filling his valve. _Over_ filling according to his warnings, but not according to his interface routines. His ‘facing software thought it was perfect.

“Mmmm,” Skyfire moaned, his hands coasting over Sideswipe’s armour. Already warm and tingly, Sideswipe’s plating buzzed at the contact, his energy field flaring and his spike battering against the inside of its hatch.

He writhed, setting his spike free, and hissed as it ground against the crate. “No, frag don’t stop!” he yelled, as Skyfire eased up. “Faster, oh frag you gotta do me faster!”

“You’re not hurt?” Skyfire said. He sounded genuinely concerned, but while that was nice and all, it wasn’t helping get Sideswipe off. Or Sunstreaker, probably, who better be watching over the security monitors.

“No! Not hurt, I’m fine, just frag me, please, oh Sigma you gotta… What are you doing?” He tried to turn and look, but the angle was wrong, and Skyfire’s grip was too tight. The spike, where was the spike! Frag no, this wasn’t what he wanted. “Get that back in me!” But then Skyfire lifted him again and kicked the crates aside. He pressed Sideswipe against the wall, his back still to Skyfire, those large hands on his aft.

Sideswipe’s feet dangled and he scrabbled for purchase. But the odd feeling of unbalance faded as Skyfire thrust up inside him and he almost overloaded on the spot. He stretched his arms above his head, reaching for a hook set into the wall. He grabbed it, using it to stabilise himself, give a bit of leverage to reciprocate the thrusting.

“Oh yeah,” he sighed. He took his optics offline, focusing entirely on the pounding. Each thrust was incrementally harder than the one before, thudding through Sideswipe’s frame and making his spike crash against the wall. Each impact was a thrill, and his components rattled, his spike crackled and ached. And his valve clenched, fuller than he’d ever known it, as Skyfire fragged him towards overload.

Sunstreaker _really_ had better be watching.

* * *

Oh scrap, this was better than catching the other ‘bots at it. It was better than watching Sideswipe pleasure himself on Prowl’s desk. Skyfire was so big, so immense and strong and so very careful with that strength.

But not so careful that he was above fucking Sideswipe into the wall, which - hot _scrap_ \- Sideswipe seemed to be enjoying just as much as Sunstreaker was enjoying watching them.

Then Skyfire paused, his wings shuddering so hard the ailerons flapped. Sunstreaker moaned, tightening his grip and imagining the wash of fluid in his brother’s valve, the surge of charge burning through him as his overload hit.

They were synchronised, or as close to as made no difference: Sideswipe overloading on Skyfire’s spike, a dribble of transfluid seeping down the wall from his own equipment; and Sunstreaker reaching climax in Red Alert’s chair, hot and sticky in his hand, satiation humming through him.

Skyfire held Sideswipe for a long moment, stroking him just as slowly as before, kissing the back of his neck, his wings still shivering. Sunstreaker grinned. Sure, he was done, but if Skyfire was up for another round – and he didn’t doubt for a moment that Sideswipe would be – he had a valve that could do with a bit of manual stimulation.

Sunstreaker checked his chronometer. Just over a breem before Red Alert came back. That was long enough, right?


End file.
